


sincerely yours...

by Nadin



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Drabbles, F/M, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-15 10:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12319302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nadin/pseuds/Nadin
Summary: WonderTrev in drabblesDay 1: A Place to BelongDay 2: A Moment in TimeDay 3: Breakfast Gone WrongDay 4: Everything for YouDay 6: Themyscira+Bonus prompt: Dreamer





	1. Day 1: A Place to Belong

**Author's Note:**

> Well, since there's a drabble week happening, I might as well drop them here, too :) There's no such thing as too much of these two, so....  
> I'll keep them short, a new story every day, you know the drill.

It was rather fascinating how this house – the very same one that Steve’s father had built over forty years ago, and the very same one where Steve grew up – could be too small and too large at once. At times, he could feel Diana’s presence it in with his skin, but sometimes, like now, he wondered if she could disappear in its depths.

He followed the light of the setting sun, the polished floorboard warm and smooth beneath his bare feet, and found himself at the back porch that opened onto the field hugged by the forest on the far left and running straight into the sky directly ahead. The back door creaked when he pushed it open, the light evening breeze ruffling his hair as he stepped onto the deck.

Diana didn’t move, her eyes glued to the fading light that was turning everything gold, the field melting into wispy clouds.

“There you are,” he said softly, stepping toward her and wrapping his arms around her from behind, marvelling in the feeling of her leaning back against him immediately – something that could never get old.

Nothing about her –  _them_  – could ever get old, Steve thought absently, brushing a light kiss to her hair, breathing her in.

“I never thought that it could be like this… so serene,” Diana murmured, as if trying not to disturb something in the air. As if the moment could break if she spoke too loudly.

“You just wait,” he laughed softly, his hand resting on top of hers that was cradling her growing belly and the child that was a gift and a blessing and the happiest thing that ever happened to him. She was quiet today, the girl that already was the most loved baby in the world.

“You say it like it’s a bad thing,” Diana shook her head, smiling.

“It’s most definitely not,” Steve grinned, and when she turned to him, he leaned down and kissed her round belly. “We can’t wait to meet you, little one,” he whispered before he straightened up and pulled Diana to him, their child nestle safely between their bodies. 

He was hers, and she was his, and nothing else mattered. 


	2. Day 2: A Moment In Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I clearly hate myself... All that suffering, my poor babies!

“ _I love you_.”

Steve’s words wrapped around Diana even before they registered in her mind, the force of the blast that rendered her deaf and disoriented still holding her in its iron grip.

He was running away from her, fast, his every footfall echoing in her heartbeat. She couldn’t hear him, not really, but she could feel it in the vibration of the ground beneath her, each step making the gaping hole inside her grow a little bigger.

The world turned to chaos around her. They were running out of time. There were screams coming from everywhere around her, and Ares – her  _brother_ , no less – wanted to bend mankind to his will. She had to stop it. It was what she was raised to do. It was why she came here.

And yet, the only thing Diana could think of - as thought the time had stopped - was the moment right before dawn, when she woke up to Steve watching her in the dim, grey light of that delicate time between night and day, his fingers playing with a strand of her hair and his gaze soft, his mind clearly far away. She didn’t know him well yet, but she loved his smile, loved the way the small lines formed in the corners of his eyes, making something warm and enormous blossom in her chest. There was something slightly self-conscious about him when he pulled her close despite the fact that there were no secrets left between them; no space and no unsaid words, either.

Diana stretched, pressed closer into his side, and buried her face in his shoulder, nuzzling into his skin. There was no need for words – they’d said everything to each other a few hours ago, her name on his lips still ringing in her head, the warmth of his touch making her skin prickle. It was too early still, and her eyes dropped shut as she tried to catalogue every second, every heartbeat, cocooned in the comfort of Steve’s embrace…

“Steve!” Back on the base, her own voice came out of her mouth odd and somewhat muffled even to her own ears, and he hesitated for a split second, her breath catching in helpless relief.

But then he was running again, faster, fading in and out of the uneven light spilling from the dim lamps around them, the distance growing between them and the roar of the air-plane swallowing her voice.

“ _I love you_.”

 _Come back_ , she begged in her mind, panicked and scared, and as lost as she’d ever been, her chest nearly caving in as the awful, painful realization started to catch up with her. This was not how it was meant to end, and the world swayed around her unsteadily as she refused to acknowledge a simple truth – on the other side of this night, nothing would be the same.

 _I love you, too_.  


	3. Day 3: Breakfast gone wrong

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL THE FLUFF!!  
> Please tell me this really happened.

There were many things that Steve knew his neighbours would gladly forgive him, but nearly setting the entire building on fire on a Saturday morning was decidedly not one of them. And it wasn’t even his fault! Not entirely, at least.

“What did they teach you on Paradise Island?” He muttered, crossing the kitchen that was filled with thick smoke – Diana’s first, and quite possible last attempt at cooking quickly escalating to something that could only be classified as a natural disaster - to push the window open.

“How to defy gods,” she responded evenly, and he smirked, not sure if this was meant to be a joke or not.

It kind of hurt him to think of contributing to the ever-worsening air pollution of London.

However, there was something endearing about the fact that she took wielding a shield and a sword to a form or art and that she could walk through a war leaving nothing but a path of destruction behind, but the frying pan and basic culinary skills left her puzzled and confused.

Diana puckered her lips, glaring at the black mass that was meant to be eggs smoking on the ruined pan, her eyebrows furrowed apprehensively. She’d seen Steve make an omelette before – the simplest of dishes, really – quite a few times, and she did everything he’d done, and yet…

“I just don’t understand…” She cocked her head, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, and Steve had to cover the laugh bubbling up in his chest with a cough.

Admittedly, it was her intentions that counted, not the end result.

When he woke up an hour ago, without Diana by his side, he didn’t think much of it. Old habits died hard – she was often up before dawn, something that years, even centuries of a certain regimen instilled into her, although Steve was slowly but steadily bending her will when it came to morning cuddling, and other things. 

He rolled onto his stomach, claiming what normally was Diana’s side of the bed, and buried his face in her pillow that her scent still lingered on, his mind already teetering on the brink between sleep and wakefulness, slowly slipping into the comfort of fuzzy daze again.

It was the smell of smoke snaking under the bedroom door that awoke him a while later and got him rolling form under the covers and stumbling out of the room, frantic and panicked. In the kitchen, dressed in nothing but one of his loose shirts – and boy, oh boy, did it look absolutely stunning on her! – Diana was fumbling with the stove knobs, and shockingly, nothing was on fire, even though he could barely see anything.

“I’m sorry,” Diana looked up when he started coughing. “I was trying to make you breakfast in bed.”

“What?” Steve paused to look up at her, blinking in surprise.

“You made it for me before, and so I thought…” She trailed off, letting her hands drop helplessly.

And that was when he started laughing.

“It’s okay, angel. We don’t have to do it the traditional way,” Steve shook his head, amused, once the place was breathable again and pulled Diana toward him. He wasn’t emotionally attached to that pan anyway. “I will keep the home fires burning and you can stick to saving the world. Deal?”

She frowned. “And by fires you mean--”

“An expression. Just an expression.” He kissed her on the forehead. “Let’s not set anything on fire again, okay?”

In the end, when it became clear that no one was going to call the fire department or the police on them, Steve grabbed ice-cream from the fridge and they ate it from a shared bowl sitting cross-legged on the bed, the room around them bathed in soft morning light and the voices of the waking-up London floating in through the open window.

“Speak of a breakfast gone wrong,” Steve noted, grinning.

One eyebrow arched, Diana scooped some ice-cream with her spoon and offered it to him before leaning in and capturing his mouth with hers, cold treat clashing with the heat of the kiss.

“I don’t know,” she murmured against his lips as she put the ice-cream away and weaved her arms around Steve’s neck. “It doesn’t look wrong to me.”  


	4. Day 4: Everything for You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this one is my fave so far.

“What’s it like?” Diana asked him on that fateful night in Veld, a lifetime ago. The future, the dreams, the life that had a purpose to it. What was it like to see beyond today and dare to hope for something he couldn’t quite put into words?

“I have no idea,” Steve muttered, looking away, a little sad, a little embarrassed to admit it out loud to someone other than himself.

But that was a long time ago, and the memory of that night was staring to feel like a faded photograph, save for Diana’s smile seared in his mind, clear as ever - something he would never allow himself to forget There were things in life that were meant to be remembered forever, and that night, the way the snow landed on her hair, was undeniably one of them.

As for her question…

There were very few times in Steve’s life when he allowed himself to think of the day beyond tomorrow, the life of a spy during the war didn’t bode well for dreaming. Every time he saw the light of a new day, it felt like a small victory - survival at its finest  Sometimes, it was enough. Other times, it made him feel profoundly lonely to the point of giving in to a dull ache in his chest. There was irony to how at some point running toward the rain of bullets without hesitation scared him far less than falling in love.

“There you are,” Diana stepped into the living room, a smile spreading across her face as she spotted him by the tall window, looking at the night Paris that gleamed like a crown of jewels with the city light scattered below him.

Steve turned around as she tossed her purse on the sofa and kicked her high-heeled shoes off, padding across the soft carpet toward him.

“What are you doing here so early? I thought you had a new shipment of old things to catalogue.” He reached for her hand when she was close enough, pulling her toward him and lacing their fingers together, marvelling in the warmth and scent of her, his eyes taking in the familiar features. He could probably look at her for a hundred years and never get tired of it, never get used to thinking just how bloody lucky he was to have her, to be loved by someone like her.

Diana smiled and shook her head. “I like the way you put it.” She pulled her hand out of his and slipped her arms around his waist, leaning in to kiss him lightly on the jaw as Steve slipped the elastic holding her hair in a tight ponytail off, allowing it to fall over her shoulders, his fingers threading though the slick black mass. “I have Jerome start on it tonight and I’ll finish everything in the morning,” she explained, leaning into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, taking in the sensation of his skin against hers.

“I thought it was urgent,” Steve noted with an arched eyebrow, curious.

“It was.” She opened her eyes, her grip on him tightening a bit – just enough to make him lose his breath and the train of the conversation. “But missing you turned out being a much more urgent matter, so…”

“God, you’re amazing,” he muttered, kissing her, and then again – deeper and slower, only drawing back when he was dizzy from the lack of oxygen. He rested his forehead against hers, his hand running in small circles over her back, the fabric of her blouse soft under his fingers.

“I know it’s not fair that I brought you here and you have nothing to do,” Diana started, absently tracing the button of his shirt with her fingers.

“Hey, it’s Paris, I’m not complaining,” Steve protected and propped her chin on his knuckle until their eyes met again, and even nodded toward the French doors leading onto the patio behind which the city was melting into the pitch-black sky.

 _I’d follow you anywhere_ , he thought, watching the worry wash out of her eyes.

“Regardless,” Diana pressed on. “It is not fair, and I just… I just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“Well, let me check my calendar,” Steve scrunched his face in mock-contemplation. “I guess I could pencil you in between the episodes of  _Breaking Bad_.”

She laughed softly, more a vibration than a sound, and tucked her face into the crook of his neck, breathing in the scent of his aftershave and soap and everything that was pure bliss, her body relaxing into his, his heartbeat thumping against her chest.

This morning, she had to leave before he was up – an emergency with one of the exhibits – and it felt unfair, making her wish she didn’t pick up the phone when her assistant called in the first place even though she’d never allowed herself to be this unprofessional before.

“I was thinking,” she started after a few moments. “It’s almost Christmas.”

“You don’t care about Christmas,” Steve reminded her.

“I don’t quite  _understand_  it,” she corrected him. “But I know that it’s something you enjoy, and I figured I could take a week off, we could go somewhere, just you and me.”

“A week, huh?” He brushed his lips the crown of her head. “You don’t have to do it. I’m fine here, Diana, I promise.”

Only an idiot would complain about living in Paris, of all places, with the woman he loved. There were worse things that could happen to a man.

“I want to.” Diana pressed a kiss to his throat, smiling at his sharp inhale and the way his pulse quickened instantly. “We could head north, find some quiet place. I could bring that black thing you like me to wear.”

Steve cleared his throat. “The black thing,” he echoed. Truth be told, she never got to wear it long enough for him to truly appreciate it, but she had a point. “Yeah, I guess that settles it.”

Diana snorted, turning her gaze toward the lights outside the window where the world awaited, vast and wondrous. The world that gave Steve back to her. The one that made magic real.


	5. October 14: Themyscira

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst. Big time...

When Diana was a child, it never ceased to amaze her how her mother seemed to always know everything – ever little prank, every smallest mischief was always met with a raised eyebrow and a silent question, her every attempt to cover her tracks acknowledged with a knowing smirk.

“But _how_ do you know?” She would ask when Queen Hippolyta tucked her in for the night, the adventures of the day still fresh in her mind, the 5-year old’s curiosity bubbling over the rim.

Her mother would laugh then, the comforting sound that rarely left the room they were sharing while Diana was little. “Magic,” she would answer with a twinkle of amusement in her eyes. Like it could explain everything. Like it was the only thing that mattered.

Later, Diana understood that it was less about higher powers and more about predictability – what child wouldn’t climb the tree she was specifically told to stay away from? What child wouldn’t sneak a treat when she wasn’t supposed to? There was comfort in it, though, long after she’d figured out the truth, comfort in knowing that someone knew her better the she knew herself.

\---

“Tell me more,” she asked Steve on the third day of his confinement in the cave under the castle, uncertain yet why she was so drawn to the stranger that fell from the sky, turning her life upside down.

It was weirder still that he had to be kept at the pools – they didn’t have another place, no prison on the island where the conflicts were solved differently.

“About what?” He looked amused, and she was suddenly self-conscious a tiny bit under the gaze of his blue eyes, curious himself, and certainly appreciating the company.

“What’s it like? Your world?” Diana was watching him closely as he fiddled with the thing that he called compass in his hands, shaking it now and then. When she’d first asked about it, Steve told her that it was broken.

He paused for a long moment, his eyes swiping over the sloping ceiling of the cave. “It’s bigger, I guess,” he responded at last. “Not much different, perhaps.” She could practically hear him rack his brain for analogies. “We have streets, markets… um, horses.”

Diana nodded slowly. “Are you alright here? Are they treating you well?” She inquired then. “Is there enough food?”

Steve’s lips quirked. “I’ve had it worse,” he chuckled, and added when her expression grew puzzled, “Normally, when the enemy catches you, the last thing they care about is your dietary preferences.”

 _We’re not the enemy_ , she thought then, but to a man robbed of his freedom it probably made no difference.

She asked him about it later, on the night in Veld, her fingers tracing the pale scar on his chest running toward his shoulder, old enough to have healed completely but still looking like something that must have caused a lot of pain when it was still raw. He’d told her about being captured once, about the things that made her grit her teeth and squeeze her eyes, her breath short in anger and pain, and her fingers flexing on his skin. He held her close then, whispering soft reassurances into her hair, like Diana was the one who’d been hurt, and she stayed awake until her mind couldn’t take it any longer and her eyes dropped shut on the will of their own, listening to his deep breathing, wrapped in his warmth, trying to memorize everything about the way he felt curled around her body.

\---

When she came back to Themyscira after defeating Ares, her mother was waiting on the beach, like Diana knew she would be, like there was no doubt that sooner or later she would find her way back home, to the world where she truly belonged.

She had questions, so any of them that she didn’t know where to start, but when she stepped on the sand, they all evaporated, her anger and confusion no longer squeezing her chest, replaced with endless sadness. And so she fall into her mother’s arms, crying, finally allowing herself to grief for the love the likes of which she knew she would never feel again.

The days started to blend into one another, her mind numb. The comfort she expected to feel was nowhere to be found. Not the way she needed it. More and more, she was starting to feel like Steve’s death ripped her in half, and what was left was nothing but a shell of who she used to me.

“You’re so beautiful,” she could hear Steve’s voice in her mind, feel his hands on her skin, tracing the lines of her face in the dark when their bodies were nothing but grey outlines in the sea of darkness.

She didn’t miss him any less on Themyscira, but it was easier somehow for the reasons Diana couldn’t quite understand. Maybe because he wasn’t a part of every memory she had of the island. One day, she knew she would return to his world, but not now. Not yet.

Her hand landed on her belly where a wink of life was a living reminder of how endless love could be, her lips curving into a small smile against her will. It was early still for anyone else to notice, but she _knew_.

One day, their daughter would learn everything about the man who made Diana happy beyond everything she could ever imagine.

One day….


	6. October 16: Dreamer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was thinking of making this one super sad but I think we’ve all suffered enough, so... here comes the bonus prompt for the @wondertrevnet drabble-thon week.

**_Themyscira_ **

The first time, he had a shape but not a face, the outline of his body a dark form against the blue sky, so close to the edge of the cliff that one step, and there would be nothing but free fall until the cool turquoise waters swallowed him, a much-needed relief on a hot day. No face, but Diana knew that he was smiling, her skin prickling with the sensation as palpable as a touch.

“Who are you?” She asked, the world bending around her, folding into a cocoon that held only the two of them.

Without saying a word, the man turned and stepped off the outcropping of rocks, his laugher bouncing off the cliffs and scattering along the water.

She paused for just a moment, long enough to make a decision, but not to consider its consequences. She knew this island like the back of her hand, better even. And she needed to know. She needed—

Diana ran, pushing away from the rough rocks, and then she was flying, the wind tugging at her hair and roaring in her ears, the smell of seaweed and water growing stronger with every moment. She smiled despite herself, welcoming the touch of the water to her skin as she dove into the depths of the sea, her body making a wide arc underneath the waves as her eyes scanned the clear waters around her, looking for the man who was nowhere to be found.

Her lungs started to burn. Diana kicked her legs, pushing up toward the surface, gasping hungrily for air. The man disappeared without a trace, and she turned on her back, allowing the waves to cradle her body under the bright sun that coloured the sand a hundred feet ahead of her white.

She closed her eyes and let her lips stretch into a smile, suddenly overcome with a sense to deep, consuming contentment.

When the early-morning wake-up call pulled her out of her slumber, the remnants of the dream were nothing but a cobweb clinging to her brain, too thin, incorporeal, the images of it blurring as Diana reached for her armour, fastening the bracelets of her wrists on autopilot. The smell of the ocean was wafting into her room from the open window, sparkling something in her memory for a fleeting moment, but soon it was gone, too.

“Slept well?” Antiope greeted her when Diana stepped onto the field, a sword in her hand and a shield behind her back – the only life she’d ever known.

Diana nodded and made a purposeful effort not to look at the water far below them, the cool touch of it still fresh on her skin.

\---

He came back again, his face never seen in the bright light or deep shadow, but the sound of his voice was rising goosebumps along her skin, his laughter making her heart race faster. In the coming years, he became a frequent guest in her dreams, evasive and constant all at once.

“Why are you coming here?” Diana asked him one night, watching the moonlight gleam on his bare arms, his pants rolled up to his knees as he stood in the surf, just outside of the reach of the waves that raced against one another to lick at his toes. Not for long though, she thought absently. The tide was coming. Soon the beach would be nothing but a thin strip of sand. “What do you want?”

He turned to her, his face concealed by the darkness, out of reach of the moonlight. “You know.”

He was teasing her, she could hear it in his voice, and Diana was equally intrigued and frustrated.

“No, I don’t,” she shook her head.

“Look in the sky,” he offered softly.

She did, finding herself standing under the stars that winked at her from the vast blackness of the space. Transfixed, she followed the invisible lines that formed constellations, the stories and legends of their battles and love and victories that earned them a place above the world, grand and significant and just as mysteries as it always was filling her mind.

Yet there was nothing there that she hadn’t seen before, no new clues, no answers.

“I don’t…” She started, turning to the man again, adamant to demand an explanation this time, but he was gone.

\---

He had to be a god, Diana figured eventually, a memory from the childhood when she devoured the tales of their ancestors and legends the likes of which did not exist outside of her imagination with the dedication of the Queen’s daughter that she was.

She searched the books then, looking for the familiar line of his shoulders, the tilt of his head when he was amused, the defined muscles of his arms and the sunshine that she saw in him in her dreams, but there was nothing. The faces looking back at her from the familiar pages were grim, often reproachful, sometimes thoughtful but almost never joyful.

“What are you doing?” Hippolyta asked her, confused, when she found her daughter in the library, a handful of books spread around her on the marble floor. 

“Wading through memories,” Diana whispered, closing the last volume, uncertain yet as to why it mattered so much that she found him, and scared of getting the answers.

Her mother didn’t press.

\---

His eyes were bright blue, like the sea around them, and confused, his chest heaving, lungs hungry for air.

“Wow,” he whispered, surprised and disoriented, and blinked, trying to get a better look at her face hovering above him.

“You’re a man,” Diana smiled. 

 _You’re him_ , she wanted to say.  _You’re real_.

\---  

**_Veld, Belgium_ **

“Are you cold?” Steve asked, his voice a soft whisper.

The room was starting to cool down, the dying ambers in the hearth glowing red in the dark but offering no warmth, and the chilly air was making their heated bodies prickle with goosebumps. Without waiting for Diana’s response, he pulled the covers over them and tugged her closed to him. They were lying face to face with just enough space between them for their chests to rise and fall as they breathed, their legs tangled together and their noses almost touching as the snow swirled and danced outside, a veil between them and the rest of the universe.

It was late, Diana’s body humming with equal parts of elation and exhaustion. She wasn’t cold, not with Steve being so close that she could hear his heartbeat without even touching him, but she loved the closeness, couldn’t get enough of him, her eyes roaming over his features, as if she still couldn’t believe he was real.

“Angel.” The word came out in a whoosh of breath.

Diana let out a small laugh. “Hardly.” She traced her finger along a thin scar on his chin. “The training camp,” she murmured, more to herself than to Steve. “Barb wire. You tripped in the mud.”

His eyebrow quirked. “How do you know? I never told you that.”

“You did,” she smiled, her voice dropping like she was telling him a secret. In a way, she was. “In my dream. A long time ago.” She’d stopped counting. “I knew you before I even met you, Steve Trevor.”

Steve caught her hand, kissed her fingers. Couldn’t stop touching her. “What else did I say?” It was hard to tell if he believed her or if her was just playing along, but right now, it didn’t matter. She knew the truth.

Diana’s palm curled over his jaw, her thumb running slowly, lazily over his unshaven cheek, trying to memorize the texture of his prickly stubble with her hand. “You weren’t much of a talker.”

He swallowed, his stomach turning hollow as he hoped against all hope that this night would never end. 

“Diana… whatever happens tomorrow--”

She freed her arms from between their bodies and slipped them around her neck, tilting her face to brush her mouth to his. “Nothing will happen. Nothing bad. That’s the deal.” Her lips tugged up at the corners, forming into a small smile, and she shifted, nestling more comfortably into him, curve for curve, their lips meeting in slow, gentle curses. “You didn’t say much but you always came back to me.”

\---

She watched him hobble toward her across the base, dust and soot clinging to his skin, and for a long moment, all she could do was stare at him, her ears still ringing, her knees weak in the post-adrenaline-rush way, and her heart lodged in her throat.

Steve paused for only a moment, slipping in and out of her sight as the people between them moved, trying to understand what had happened, and what was becoming of their world, and gave her a small wave. He was too far away but she thought she could see him smile.

And then Diana was running – despite the pain, despite everything, until she flung herself at him, shaking and laughing and crying, and his face was in her hair, whispering something softly, the words lost and unimportant. He smelled of sweat and fire and acrid smoke, and she was holding on to him like letting go would make her fall apart, her throat tight. And nothing mattered, and no one mattered, and it was a very long time before her breathing evened out and the world shifted into place around them.

“If you’re trying to strangle me, it’s working,” Steve murmured, kissing her temple.

A laugh bubbled up in her throat, morphing into a sob. “I thought you… I thought…” She tucked her face into his neck, his skin wet with her tears. “You came back.”

“Always.”

 


End file.
